Holy Night
by coppertopkk
Summary: It's Christmas at the Men of Letters bunker, and Dean is taking full advantage of their new-found home. (PRE-09x09, tiny bit of Destiel)


A loud crash jerked Sam from sleep. He sat up in alarm and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Reaching for his pistol, he crept into the hall and heard Dean talking.

"Damn it, Cas! Be careful."

"Sorry. I'll go get a towel," came Castiel's familiar mutter.

Sam lowered his gun as he rounded the corner into the furnished den of the Men of Letters bunker. The sight before him made him freeze in surprise.

Christmas decorations were hung all around the room. Garland was pinned along walls. A huge wreath hung over the mantle. A crackling fire occupied the fireplace.

And worst of all, a sprig of mistletoe dangled in the doorway overhead.

In the center of it all stood Dean, holding a mile of white Christmas lights that he was weaving haphazardly around a huge evergreen tree. A broken beer bottle lay on the ground, the source of the crash. Sam relaxed and stepped anxiously out from under the mistletoe.

"Uh...Dean?" The older Winchester looked up from his task, and his face brightened when he saw Sam.

"Hey, Sammy! You finally woke up. Merry Christmas!" Sam stared at his brother, wondering if he was still dreaming. Then he caught sight of the clock. It read 2:35 pm. He shot an incredulous glance at Dean.

"I've been asleep for _twelve hours_? Why didn't you wake me?"

Dean hesitated the way Sam had seen him do so much recently. Then he smiled and turned back to the tree. "I dunno. Figured you could use some more rest. Seems like you're still not a hundred percent since the Trials," he shrugged.

The Trials again. Sam sighed, resisting the urge to argue with him about the fact that he felt fine. It was starting to sound like a broken record. He found an opportunity to change the subject when Cas appeared and Sam noticed what he was wearing.

To be honest, it would be hard not to notice. The former angel had on possibly the ugliest Christmas sweater in the history of ever. It looked to be a combination of three different fabrics, and had the color scheme of a Christmas cookie frosted by a four year old. Santa's sleigh and all nine reindeer flew across the front, complete with rhinestone harnesses and a bedazzled full moon.

"Uh, hey Cas. I didn't know you were here," Sam greeted him, trying to avert his eyes from the horror.

"Hello, Sam. I arrived this morning. Dean invited me to participate in your Christmas celebration."

Sam shot a glance at his brother. "What?" Dean asked. "We have a home now, Sammy! This place is like straight out of a Lifetime movie. Why shouldn't we celebrate?"

He looked so excited about it that Sam didn't have much choice. "Sure. Glad you're here, Cas. Um, nice sweater too," he added. Castiel looked down at his front and smiled at Sam. "Thank you, Sam. I've spent many years observing Christmas merriment, so I thought it appropriate to wear something festive. I'm glad you find it agreeable." As the angel leaned down to clean up the broken bottle, Sam dragged his eyes across the room to Dean, who stifled a snort and ducked behind the Christmas tree.

Sam sighed and crouched down to help Castiel pick up the broken glass. As they carried it to the garbage in the kitchen, the front door of the bunker suddenly opened. The familiar face of Kevin Tran, Advanced Placement appeared over the balcony, offering Sam a half grin. "Hey, Sam, Cas. Merry Christmas."

"And a happy New Year," Castiel responded with verve, continuing to the kitchen. Kevin descended the steps and raised his eyebrows after Cas.

"Is he wearing a chimera," the prophet asked.

"I think it might be sentient, yes," Sam whispered back. "Did Dean invite you too?"

"Uh-huh. I was actually kinda surprised. Didn't know you guys did Christmas," Kevin admitted.

"Well uh, we normally don't. Last time we did was in a motel room and Dean had less than a year to live," Sam shrugged.

Dean walked in at that moment, and his face split into a grin when he saw the prophet. "Hey, Kevin!" he exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder. "How's it going man? Any luck with the tablet?"

Kevin nodded and shrugged his backpack off. "Okay well I'm still having issues with the main writing, but I translated a bunch more of the footnotes into Enochian." He pulled out a handful of paper with rows of the dead language printed carefully on them. "Think you could get Crowley to translate?"

"I'll take care of it," Sam offered, taking the papers. "Thanks by the way, Kevin. We really appreciate everything you're doing." Kevin grinned at the praise. "Hey, no problem. It's Christmas, right? There's your present."

"Oh, speaking of presents," Castiel called from the kitchen. He appeared with a grocery bag, and Sam and Dean exchanged a glance of alarm. Castiel reached in and pulled out a pair of reindeer antlers that had small bells sewed on, holding them out proudly to Sam. "I've been told these are very useful in increasing holiday cheer."

Dean couldn't stop the bark of laughter as Sam slowly reached out and took the antlers from the former angel. "Come on Sammy, put them on. He _bought_ them for you, you have to." Sam chewed his lip stubbornly for a moment before cramming the antlers on his head and looking to Dean for exasperated approval. The older Winchester's laughter was cut short as Cas held out a bright red Santa hat, in addition to the one he already had on his own head. "We can match, Dean. Although I don't suppose our renditions of Father Christmas will be accurate..." Cas's face started to fall into a frown, and Dean quickly snatched the hat from his hand. "Thanks a lot, Cas. They're great." He put the hat on and smiled at the angel. Cas grinned back and wandered off after Kevin, who had escaped the room when he saw the antlers.

"Dean," Sam said warningly as his older brother snickered again.

"Oh come on, Sam. Cas has never had Christmas. It's Kevin's first Christmas with a dead mom. Let's just do this for them, okay?" He grinned at Sam and flicked his antlers, which jingled softly.

"Alright, alright," Sam said. Dean was right, he was being a little too much of a Grinch. "I'm gonna go down and see if I can't get Crowley to help us out."

"Give the junkie some more of Kevin's blood. We still have a couple syringes of the stuff in the fridge," Dean told him. "Yeah, I'll get it."

Sam shivered as he headed down the stairs to the dungeon. The December air was seeping into the basement, making it freezing. Before he reached Crowley, he set the syringe of blood and the Enochian papers down on a shelf and crossed the hall to one of the latest rooms he'd discovered. Most of it was just more books and files, but in the corner Sam had found a shoebox filled with a variety of knives and other sharp objects. A few he recognized, but some were rather exotic looking, and he assumed they'd been used by the Men of Letters in various rituals. He knew Dean would get a kick out of them.

Sam took the shoebox back upstairs to his room and shoved it under his bed until he could put a bow or something on it later. Then he returned to the basement and pushed open the door to Crowley's cage.

It took one look from the King of Hell and a second too late for Sam to remember the jingling antlers atop his head. Crowley's laugh caught Sam off guard, but the Winchester set his jaw and stepped forward, ignoring his cackling. _Kevin's blood must really be affecting his emotions,_ he thought briefly as he set the Enochian notes in front of the demon. Crowley finally caught his breath and looked up at Sam.

"Hello, Moose. Christmas, eh? I suppose this is my present," he rasped.

"It comes with this as well," Sam said, holding up the crimson syringe.

The effect was immediate. Crowley's eyes brightened, and he stared almost hungrily at the blood. Then he blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and his gaze turned reproachful. "One more thing and you have a deal," he said.

Sam frowned. "No way." He started to pull the syringe away, making sure Crowley could see it.

"Wait! Just hear me out. All I want is to get out of this room for awhile," Crowley explained quickly, dark eyes darting between Sam and the blood.

Sam snorted and shook his head. "Like hell."

"Moo-Sam, please," Crowley rasped. Sam waited, and the demon wet his lips and glared down at the stub of the black crayon he'd been given for translating.

"...It's cold down here."

"What?"

"I said I'm cold, Moose," Crowley hissed, not meeting Sam's eyes. Briefly Sam's mind flickered to Castiel's ridiculous sweater, and he laughed. Crowley, however, took it as personal mockery, and he set his jaw. "I've been completely complacent with everything you've asked of me. But these doses of blood are affecting me like they did...back in the church," the demon admitted. "Just let me sit somewhere warm. I don't care if you keep me chained up. If you let me do that, I'll translate everything Kevin cranks out of that tablet for the next few days."

Sam stared at the King of Hell for a moment. He had a point. But still...

"I'll go ask Dean and Kevin what they think. Kevin's the deciding factor on this: if he doesn't want you out, you're staying here and you won't get any blood either. After all, it's your fault he's spending this Christmas without his mom." He turned to leave, and just as he thought he was going to get out without Crowley saying anything, the demon called after him.

"Cute antlers, Moose! The jingle bells are _adorable_!"

As Sam tromped up the stairs, cursing Crowley under his breath, soft Christmas music suddenly reached his ears. He veered into the den to find Dean, Cas and Kevin holding beers as Cas hummed off-key to the music coming out of the radio in the corner. Kevin was wearing a green elf hat complete with elf ears-but he seemed legitimately happy with it. He grinned at Sam and held up his beer, and Sam couldn't help but smile back. The kid deserved a few small joys in his life.

"Hey, what's up? Did you give Crowley the goods?" Dean asked. "Uh, not quite." Sam quickly explained what Crowley wanted, and he felt a pang of guilt when he saw the grin slide off Kevin's face.

"Kevin, it's up to you. If you don't want him up here, we won't question it. But if you can deal with it, we'll sit him in the corner, paint a Devil's Trap on the floor, and he'll still be one hundred percent chained up," Sam told him.

Kevin hesitated, adjusting the grip on his beer. The room was silent apart from the sound of White Christmas playing on the radio.

"Do it," Kevin finally murmured.

"Hey are you sure, Kevin? You don't have to. We can make him translate it other ways," Dean said. "I know. But he's still taking my blood, right?" Sam nodded. "And he said he's cold. Which means it's affecting him. If we keep giving it to him and giving him occasional privileges, he'll be more cooperative with translating. We need to get it done as soon as possible," Kevin sighed. "We can't waste time arguing with him."

Sam swallowed and nodded. "Okay. If you're positive. Dean, you wanna draw a Trap under that chair?" he asked, gesturing to the recliner in the corner, next to the fire. "Yeah no problem. You need some help with that sonuvabitch?"

"I'll go with him," Kevin offered, standing up. He followed Sam out of the room and down the stairs. "...Nice hat," Sam commented.

"I rock it pretty well," Kevin agreed. "...I bet Crowley got a kick out of your antlers."

"He did. It was mildly creepy to hear him cackle."

Suddenly the words from O' Christmas Tree came echoing up the stairs from the basement in perfect pitch. Sam and Kevin stopped and blinked at each other.

"Speaking of creepy," Kevin said. They made their way down to the dungeon as Crowley continued singing in a deep bellow. The doors were open as Sam had left them, and they approached the demon as he finished the final verse of the song on high. Then he fell silent and smirked at them.

"I'm not sure whether we should give him a round of applause or duct tape his mouth shut," Kevin admitted.

"Now now Kevin, don't be a Scrooge," the King of Hell tutted. He turned to Sam. "I assume our deal is a go?"

Sam nodded stiffly and held up the syringe. Crowley eagerly rolled his sleeve up and allowed Sam to slide the needle into his skin and push the plunger. As the syringe was emptied, Crowley let out a sigh of relief. Then, with Kevin looking on, Sam unshackled the demon from the chair and hoisted him to his feet.

"Mighty fine place you've got here, boys," Crowley commented as Sam led him up the stairs and steered him into the den. Dean was standing in front of the fire, and he made no effort to conceal the demon killing knife that was hung at his belt.

"Well well, even Squirrel is in a festive mood. Love the tree," the demon quipped. "Bet you didn't get many of those in the motels over the years."

"Crowley, shut up," Sam muttered. He pushed the demon into the recliner and handed him the Enochian script, as well as his stubby, broken crayon. Crowley stared at him.

"You seriously expect me to translate-_in detail_-a centuries old language with an inch of crayon?"

"Better start now," Dean suggested. Crowley sighed and then did a double take as Castiel glided into the room. Sam barely maintained a straight face as the demon gawked at Cas's sweater. Last time he'd seen Crowley look that alarmed, Abbadon had been about to smash his face into the floor of a church.

"Merry Christmas, Crowley," Castiel greeted him. Not even the King of Hell could dampen his Christmas spirit. Crowley nodded in response, blinking several times as though the bright garment was damaging his retinas. "Castiel. You look positively dazzling in that, ah..._sweater_." His voice rose a little at the end, as if he thought that was too mild a word for the calamity.

Cas beamed, enjoying all the praise he was getting. He'd obviously made a very good choice in festive clothing. Judging by the grin Kevin and Dean exchanged, it even brought joy to others. The former angel glanced at Sam and Dean before he reached out and set a third Santa hat in the demon's lap.

"Since you're joining in our Christmas celebration, I thought it would be appropriate," he said when Crowley stared at the hat. The King of Hell was silent for a moment. Sam, Dean and Kevin waited, expecting a snarky remark. Then Crowley smiled.

"Thank you, Cas. More considerate than these bloody Winchesters. Won't even give a man a hat to keep his head warm." He lifted the hat gruffly and set it atop his head, adjusting it with bound hands. Then he looked at Dean's Santa hat. "Well, one of us is going to have to change."

Dean smirked and patted Kevin on the back as he turned to the TV. "Hey hey, A Wonderful Life is on! Cas, come here. We're gonna show you why Meg called you Clarence!"

Sam placed the bow atop the festively wrapped shoebox full of weapons for Dean and stood back to admire his work. For the utter lack of Christmas presents he'd wrapped in his life, it wasn't bad. Satisfied, he picked it up and headed to the den. The lights were off, and Dean and Castiel sat side by side on the couch, watching the conclusion to A Wonderful Life. Crowley was in the corner, and Sam froze when he saw how immersed in the movie the demon was. He looked away before he could confirm whether or not he was crying. That was the last thing he needed tonight.

"Hey, Dean, where's Kevin?" Sam asked.

"Huh? Oh, he just left like a minute ago. Said he was gonna step outside for some fresh air."

"Gotcha. I'll go check up on him." Sam set the box under the tree as the little girl on screen exclaimed, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings!" As he ducked back out of the room, he could hear Castiel murmur, "What a ridiculous notion. Where did they get this information from? Dean, I fear these gray people have been severely misled."

Sam laughed and sighed, shaking his head as he went up the stairs to the bunker's entrance. When he pushed the door open, a chilling breeze rushed in to meet him. He blinked in surprise when he saw the snow falling in heavy flakes. He looked around and froze as he spotted Kevin's figure sprawled out in the snow a few feet away.

"_Kevin!_ Kevin, are you okay?" Sam exclaimed, rushing over to the prophet. Kevin jumped and sat up. "Oh, Sam. Yeah, I'm fine. Why, what's wrong?" he asked, seeing the alarm on Sam's face.

"Nothing, I just... I saw you lying in the snow and I thought you collapsed or something," Sam said, relieved. "What are you doing?"

Kevin laid back down, spreading his arms out at his sides. "I was making a snow angel. My mom and I used to play out in the snow a lot when I was little," he explained. Sam hesitated and then sat down beside the prophet.

"It was always just us on Christmas," Kevin continued. "But those years are some of the best memories I have." He stared up into the snow for a moment, and Sam shifted awkwardly, at a loss for what to say. Then the prophet smiled and shook his head.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this," he sighed. Sam's brow furrowed, and he turned toward Kevin.

"What? Kevin, no. You can talk to us about whatever," Sam assured him. Kevin looked up at him with watery eyes, and in them Sam could see all the prophet's pain from this past year. "We're family, Kevin. That means we take the good with the bad, no matter what happens. I know Dean gives you a hard time, but when it comes right down to it, he'll always put his family first." He stood up and reached out to help the prophet up. Kevin hesitated and took his hand, and Sam hoisted him out of the perfect snow angel he'd made.

"You can trust us, Kevin. We'll always be here to lift you up," Sam told him. Kevin swallowed and nodded, and then laughed. "I told you before I'm not gay, Sam." They both laughed, and Kevin brushed his sleeve across his eyes.

"Come on, we better go back in. Cas will be wanting to open presents," Sam said.

The lights were back on in the den, and they found Dean and Castiel at a standoff in the doorway. "What's going on?" Sam asked when he saw the tense look on Dean's face.

"Do it, Squirrel! Don't keep the man waiting!" Crowley cackled from his chair. Cas shifted from foot to foot and looked at Dean expectantly.

It was then that Sam remembered the mistletoe. He looked up, and sure enough Dean and Cas had been caught directly under it. Obviously it had been Cas's idea to hang some in the first place.

"Dean, I believe it's common Christmas tradition that any couple that finds themselves under mistletoe has to..."

"Whoa, whoa. Cas, we are _not_ a couple," Dean started, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "And I don't- "Kiss 'im, Squirrel!" Crowley cheered. "Kiss that angel of yours this instant!" Dean looked to Sam, pleading for help, and his hope plummeted when he saw both Sam and Kevin barely keeping straight faces as they looked on. He glanced back at Cas, and those bright blue eyes gazed back happily. "Damn it..." Dean muttered, taking a step closer.

"_On the lips!_" Crowley called.

"Shut up Crowley," Dean snapped, and squeezed his eyes shut, leaned forward, and pushed his lips against Castiel's. Sam's phone was ready in an instant, and the camera on it flashed half a second before Dean pulled away. Crowley was howling, and Kevin was laughing and clapping as Dean wiped his hand across his mouth, shooting glances at Cas. The angel just stood there, his own fingers touching his lips and his brow furrowed.

"Well, that was awful," Dean coughed, face flushing bright red. "Why don't the three of you shut your pie holes before I shove that mistletoe down your throats," he suggested with a smile. He trudged over to the Christmas tree and picked up a soft, badly wrapped package that obviously had to be clothing.

"Come on guys. Let's do presents. Cas, here." He held the gift out to the former angel without looking at him. Cas took it and just stared at it, smiling, until Dean laughed at him. "What are you doing? Open it." He needed no further urging and slowly, almost carefully unwrapped the gift.

Inside was a brand new trench coat. "Dean, I..." Cas was, for the first time all night, speechless. "Thank you," he finally managed.

"Yeah, well you didn't look right without it," Dean shrugged. "Come on, put it on!" As Cas unfolded the coat, Sam picked his way across the room to the tree and gave Dean the wrapped shoebox. "Thank god you got him something to put on over that sweater," he murmured so that only Dean could hear. His brother grinned at him and then tore into the wrapping. "Aw hell yeah! Where'd you get these?" he asked, picking through the knives and other objects.

"Found 'em a couple weeks ago in one of the rooms downstairs. Thought you'd like them."

"Damn straight I do! Thanks, Sammy." He placed the shoebox on the end table and reached back under the tree. "Here's yours. And I've got one for a Mr. Kevin Tran, there's our boy!" Kevin grinned and caught the package Dean tossed him.

"Oh, sweet," Sam laughed as he opened his and found a complete box set of the Game of Thrones books. "Hey, you're the one who told me you like to read," Dean reminded him. "I'm sure I'll be busy for the next couple months. Thanks, Dean." He glanced at Kevin to see what he'd gotten and saw the prophet staring down at a picture frame. It was Kevin and his mom at the tattoo parlor the brothers had taken them to get anti possession tattoos. Mrs. Tran sat with her jaw raised, holding her son's hand as he grimaced at the pain.

"I took that on my phone, believe it or not," Dean told him proudly. "Thought you might like it." His grin slackened when he saw Kevin swallow hard. But then the prophet smiled up at him, and he stepped forward. "Thanks, Dean. I love it," he murmured, giving the surprised man a hug. Dean patted him on the back and shot a pleased look at Sam. After a moment Kevin released him and sat down on the end of the couch clutching the photo.

"And last but not least..." Dean announced, walking over to the chair where Crowley had been watching silently, still grinning from Dean and Cas's kiss. The King of Hell blinked in surprise when the Winchester held out a small wrapped box.

"...For me? You're joking," Crowley rasped.

"Well I'm sure you've been on Santa's naughty list for the past few centuries, so I figured someone had to do it," Dean told him. Crowley stared at him for a few seconds and then picked up the gift. He tore the paper away, revealing a pack of Crayola crayons.

The King of Hell's laugh was rich and loud, and for once Sam, Dean, Cas and Kevin could share in it. Sam smiled as he looked around the room, at Dean with his arm slung around Cas and a beer in his hand, Crowley as he harassed Dean about not knowing a good Christmas present if it bit him in the rear, and the peaceful smile on Kevin's face as he gazed at the photo of his mother and him. And Sam knew that no matter what happened, the happiness they felt now was real and unperturbed.

_All is calm, all is bright..._


End file.
